


the thrill of knowing how alone we are

by lady_romanov



Series: rare and sweet as cherry wine [3]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Come Marking, Deepthroating, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Scent Kink, Shaving, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:27:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26523658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_romanov/pseuds/lady_romanov
Summary: Geralt, Jaskier, and a moment in time.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: rare and sweet as cherry wine [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1645501
Comments: 19
Kudos: 354





	the thrill of knowing how alone we are

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't the third part of the series that I imagined, and this kind of got out of control. Originally I just planned on a very short drabble without sex of Jaskier just shaving Geralt, but apparently they just really wanted to have sex. Enjoy this plotless drabble which will hopefully be followed by a more plotty update. This was written and checked over really quickly, so if there are any errors, please let me know and I'll fix it. Title from Hozier's "Better Love".

"Can you please hold still?" Jaskier huffs. "I'd really rather not stab you in the eye."

Beneath him, Geralt chuckles. His hands are warm where they're resting on Jaskier's hips, idly stroking little circles into his skin with his thumbs. "I'd really quite like to see you try that," his Witcher says, dryly. 

It actually wouldn't be difficult in this position; they're in the bathtub with Jaskier resting in Geralt's lap, a razor in the bard's hand as he carefully shaves Geralt's winter beard away. Jaskier would prefer it if Geralt kept the hair - it’s unbearably sexy for one, and for another, there’s just something about _beard burn_ \- but Geralt inevitably complains about the heat and the itch, and Jaskier inevitably gets tired of having to parse out monster guts from the rough white whiskers. It’s still late spring, and there’s no real need to do it this early in the year, but they so rarely get the time to lounge in a bath in a relatively nice inn that they had decided to take full advantage.

They’ve done this a dozen times before, even before they bonded. Back then, Jaskier would simply perch on the side of the bath and carefully, carefully scrape away the hair that covered Geralt’s magnificent face, trying and failing not to be affected by the heavy weight of Geralt’s eyes focused directly on him. Even now that they are together those eyes still get to him, but now instead of being unfathomable and frankly intimidating (and beautiful), Jaskier can read the warmth and fondness there, can feel the good humor radiating off of the Alpha between his legs. 

Speaking of between the legs - Geralt’s hands keep dipping down in the water, trailing from his hips to his arse, teasing, leaving lines of heat wherever his fingers touch Jaskier’s skin. They’re both hard - Jaskier practically has a Pavlovian response to _Geralt_ and _baths,_ something that used to be extremely embarrassing but is now thoroughly appreciated - and Jaskier’s wet already, as he always is when Geralt touches him. He’s still a little sore from last night, in a way that makes him feel all hot and achy, the thought of Geralt taking him again sending pleasant shivers of anticipation through his whole body, but at the moment he doesn’t want to think about sex. Inevitably bathing together _will_ lead to sex, but right here right now Jaskier is happy to bask in the simple intimacy of touching just like this, in the act of shaving Geralt as the man let’s no one else do. The trust and love of the gesture is nearly better than sex. Nearly. 

He takes the blade from Geralt’s skin long enough to lean down and kiss the tip of Geralt’s nose. “Not yet,” he says lightly, inching back a little in Geralt’s lap to avoid brushing their cocks together. 

Geralt growls playfully, but his hands settle on Jaskier’s lower back and stay there. Jaskier hums in approval, and then when Geralt’s mouth twitches upward, keeps on humming as he finishes the last delicate parts of the shaving - the corners of his jaw and behind his ears, the shaving blade kissing Geralt’s soft lips as he traces the soft bow of his mouth. Geralt holds his face perfectly still as Jaskier uses a rag to wipe away the cream - as close to unscented as possible, which Jaskier paid a pretty ducat for at a marketplace in Toussaint - and smiles against his mouth when Jaskier leans in to kiss him once he’s finally done. 

“Do I meet your approval?” Geralt says against his lips, and Jaskier bites his lower lip playfully before responding.

“Always, White Wolf.”

They kiss for a while more until the water grows cold and Jaskier starts to shiver. Then Geralt gently prods Jaskier into climbing off of him, both of them stepping out of the bath and fetching the towels from where Jaskier thoughtfully left them to warm by the fire. Geralt snags both cloths and tosses Jaskier’s to him, smirking when it smacks into the bard’s face and makes him splutter indignantly. 

“Rude,” Jaskier grumbles, towelling off quickly. Geralt disappears from view for a few moments as Jaskier scrubs his face and hair dry, but he quickly reappears when Geralt gets impatient and takes the towel from his hands, dropping it to the ground and tugging Jaskier into a bruising kiss. 

Jaskier moans shamelessly, and this time Geralt’s growl is very real. His erection had flagged as they’d dried off and Jaskier had shivered, but now it comes back full force, curving hot and leaking against his stomach as Geralt palms his arse and pulls him flush against his body. “Jas,” Geralt murmurs, and Jaskier shivers at the deep rasp of Geralt’s voice, his cock throbbing, slick running down his thighs as Geralt walks him backward until he falls gracelessly onto the bed.

He fully expects Geralt to climb into bed after him, but instead the Witcher drops to his knees at Jaskier’s feet, and Jaskier’s stomach clenches in anticipation. 

“Alpha,” he says, voice already halfway to wrecked before Geralt’s even touched him.

Geralt’s golden eyes are dark and gleaming in the low light of the fire, his hair damp and long down his back. “Omega,” he purrs, and Jaskier feels a fresh wave of slick leave him. Fuck, just Geralt’s voice can make him come some nights, and Geralt knows it, too. He props himself up on one elbow, his other hand caressing Geralt’s freshly shaved face. Geralt kisses his hand chastely, grazing his teeth over the pads of his fingers and sending pulses of heat up Jaskier’s spine. When he bows his head Jaskier expects him to lick him open, but instead he grips Jaskier’s hips and takes his cock into his hot mouth, swallowing.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jaskier gasps, his eyes falling closed as Geralt hollows his cheeks, his tongue stroking his hard length. He licks a broad stripe up Jaskier’s cock, tasting the salt of his skin and the bitterness of his precome before gently taking the head in his mouth and sucking, hard. Jaskier shakes, beyond words, moaning and writhing as Geralt bobs his head, taking him all the way down to the root. When the head of his cock nudges down Geralt’s throat, Jaskier sobs, fucking up into Geralt’s mouth the way he knows the Witcher likes; indeed, Geralt groans in approval, his fingers digging bruise-hard into Jaskier’s hips as he swallows around his cock. 

His orgasm washes over him in a white hot wave, blinding him, and Jaskier weaves one hand into Geralt’s hair and pulls, chanting Geralt’s name as he spills down his throat. Geralt swallows, greedily taking all the bard has to offer. The wet sound of his mouth letting go of Jaskier’s cock is obscene, and Jaskier just came but he’s already half-hard again, so wet he’s sure he’ll be paying for these sheets come morning. 

“ _Geralt,_ ” he whines, tugging at his damp hair, and Geralt wipes his mouth quickly before climbing into bed with him. Jaskier sighs when Geralt settles on top of him warm and heavy. They’re both still a little damp and so their skin slides together easily, and Jaskier’s hips jerk when Geralt’s cock rubs against his. “Oh,” he moans, and Geralt licks into his mouth as he wraps one huge hand around both of their cocks and starts jacking them off, slow and devastatingly perfect.

“That’s it,” Geralt says approvingly as Jaskier rolls his hips, chasing his second orgasm. Geralt kisses him again, and Jaskier can taste the salt of his own come in the Witcher’s mouth, and it only makes him hotter, makes his balls ache and tighten as he edges closer and closer to his peak.

“Fuck,” he pants, covering Geralt’s hand with his own, speeding it up. “C’mon,” he says, determined to see Geralt fall apart with him, and Geralt growls, brushing his thumb over the head of both their cocks, and Jaskier’s eyes nearly roll back in his head.

He comes first, come splashing against his own stomach only a moment before Geralt finishes with a shout, covering them both with his spend. Geralt pants on top of him for a moment before he rolls off of him, settling his hand in the mess on Jaskier’s stomach and rubbing it into his skin, purring with satisfaction as the whole room and Jaskier in particular smell like his pheromones. 

Jaskier huffs. “You know we just made our bath pointless,” he says, eyes already half-closed. A hot bath and two mind-blowing orgasms, and all he wants is a nice long sleep.

Geralt nuzzles against his throat. “Then we’ll take another in the morning,” he says. “We have the coin.”

He’s definitely going to regret falling asleep covered in their come, but it makes Geralt so damn happy that he hardly cares. He rolls onto his side so he’s facing Geralt, slotting against his side and pressing a sleepy kiss to his sweaty chest. “If we must.”

The last thing he feels before drifting off to sleep is Geralt’s lips brushing against his forehead, his cheeks soft and smooth. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: oncomingstormss


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